The Business Trip
by The Tim Drake-ster Club
Summary: It was common Bat-clan knowledge that when Bruce had a “business trip” it meant there was a case out of Gotham that concerned him. Tim always begged to go. Not only for the reason that he wanted to ensure Bruce would come back, but also-the fun.
1. Chapter One

**_Business Trip:_**

_By: The BatThing and Silver_

He was Tim Drake. A kid who could beat the snot out of guys twice his size. A kid who knew nothing of pretenses. A kid who said what he wanted, did what he felt like and didn't answer to anybody that couldn't beat him to a bloody pulp in 10 seconds flat. Tim Drake- a kid who was singing the blues.

"In a city I called home." Tim sang in a grungy voice as he played some chords on a friend's guitar. He was wearing black sunglasses and his fedora. " There was this chick named Lina…she worked as a hooker… She was a sad _Signorina"_ He bopped his head as he sang- the tune was "Bad to the Bone". "She needed to pay some bills… she could barely eat… I took her out dancing… she was light on her feet! "

"O.K Tim! That's enough!" Ms. Olajas sighed, taking the guitar away from him. "I'm far too lenient on you, you know that?"

"But Mizzo! I was getting' to the BEST part!" She shot him a glare and he silenced himself. Ms. O was a cool lady. She liked him because he was "cheeky". She had a pretty good sense of humor- except when it came to distracting her class.

"Since you insist on being the center of attention, YOU can be today's model for figure drawings." She smirked.

"Can I have the guitar and pretend to be a guitar God?" Tim smiled, hopping up on the stand. Nothing was more annoying then your punishment turning into a reward. Ms. Olajas sighed. Someone needed to put this kid on some sort of medication. He was way too energetic to keep up with. The rest of the class went as follows: Tim squirmed and fidgeted the entire time, which got several complaints from the aspiring artists in the room. Tim had a record of staying still for 10 seconds before deciding to turn in the opposite direction. Then the bell rang and no one accomplished anything, as was the normal formula for this art class.

"You are the worst model in history." Lynn- who takes art very seriously- glared. Tim shrugged carelessly. He was on his way home now, and he couldn't wait to get there. Why? Well it would just so happen that Bruce had to go on another "business trip" out of town and for once Tim's pleading and puppy eyes actually got him somewhere! For he, Tim Drake was a kid who was going on a "business trip"!

Now it was common Bat-clan knowledge that when Bruce had a "business trip" it actually meant there was a case out of Gotham that concerned him. Tim always begged to go. Not only for the reason that he wanted to ensure Bruce would come back, but also because it was Bat fun he was missing dammit! This was a big step forward for the kid. Maybe Bruce trusted him enough to take him on some dangerous off home territory mission! Or maybe he thought Tim had some sort of advantage for this trip- like… maybe Bruce needed him to go undercover! He'd only gone undercover once as some stupid dorky looking homeless kid, but it was still fun.

After parting ways with Lynn, Tim jumped in the limo that waited for him, and smiled at Alfred.

" I'm going away Alfred!"

"I know young sir. You've mentioned this repeatedly." Alfred humored.

"But Alfred, I'm leaving TODAY. Will you be alright without me to keep you company?"

"I'm sure I will manage."

"Now Alfred, no parties." Tim wagged a finger, which got a bit of a smile out of Alfred, but not a big one. Tim liked Alfred. He had attitude. "Oh guess what! I found my calling."

"Oh, do enlighten me."

"I'm going to become a musician-busker!"

"Oh thank the lord, I thought you were going to say something really ridiculous." Alfred was, as always, very sarcastic.

The ride home seemed longer then usual, and Tim began to ponder if maybe Alfred had purposefully taken a longer way home- just to make the poor boy wait even longer to start his out of Gotham adventure! Tim had never really left Gotham let alone the country! Oh, didn't you know? This "business trip" was in Canada!

* * *

Tim glanced over his suitcase and shook his head. Alfred had ordered him to double check that he had everything packed. Climbing onto his bed Tim picked up the remote to his X-box and his fingers flew over the controls, as be battled evil.

"Master Timothy?" Came the voice of Alfred from below.

"Uh?"

"Are you completely packed young sir?"

Tim tossed his head back and beamed brightly. "Sure!"

"Very good young sir, I just hope you don't expect Master Bruce to go out of his way to find you a suitable toothbrush if you forget yours. He'll be busy, may I remind you, and I will not be around."

"I know. Tim replied, though he hadn't heard a word the older man said.

"Very good," Alfred repeated and there was silence.

About half an hour later Tim put away his game and stretched, yawning loudly. He glanced at the clock and shook his head. Bruce would be home in half an hour or so, and to Tim Drake, that was much to long.

He skipped the stairs three at a time, stretching his short legs out as far as they could go. "Alfred?" He took a flying leap to the bottom and landed soundlessly. "Alfred!"

The butler's voice rang out from the kitchen. "I am in here young master."

Tim hurried into the room and took a comfortable seat at the counter. "Have you ever been to Canada?"

"I daresay I have," the man admitted as he pushed a crystal glass into a cupboard.

"What is it like? Cold? Polar Bears?"

Alfred smiled, as if he recalled some distant, fond memory. "It all depends on which area you visit."

Tim frowned at the answer. "So, where is Bruce going, and what is it like? Is it big? Are there any cities… or anything?"

Alfred turned to the boy and shook his head. "Master Bruce was called there on business, which should explain enough, shouldn't it?"

A warm feeling came over Tim. Alfred had a point, business meant Batman and Robin. Business meant fun!

The butler was humming merrily as he finished drying the dishes and returning them to their proper spaces. "Is that a car my ears hear?"

Tim sprinted from the counter and dashed through the hall. Somehow the floor had a slick spot and Tim found himself loose his balance. He tossed his arm out and caught hold of a lamp resting pleasantly on a nearby coffee table. It fell with a crash and Tim ignored it. He trotted over to the door and peeked out the window.

"Master Tim!"

Alfred had obviously heard the crash.

Tim went to his tiptoes and frowned, seeing nothing. "There is no car Alfred, at least I don't see one."

"Master Timothy come over here this moment."

Tim unglued himself from the door at the seriousness of the voice and strolled casually over to Alfred. "Um, yeah?" He saw Alfred cleaning up pieces of the shattered lamp.

"Dare I ask what happened to this unfortunate lamp that has more sentimental value then you understand?"

Tim frowned. "Oh, I slipped, it was an accident Alfred, I'm sorry. I just caught myself on it and it fell and shattered. I didn't know it was that, um, important."

Alfred looked up at the boy with a small amount of annoyance. "I suppose you would like to know that this lamp belonged to Mistress Wayne."

"Oh," Tim's heart sank into his stomach. That was one way to ruin a person's day, breaking something that probably meant more than you to someone. For a moment Tim felt a little annoyed himself. That lamp had been asking to be broken. Besides, how was he supposed to know that it was important?

The door gave a familiar click and Tim spun on his heels to see Bruce enter the house looking slightly ruffled.

"Hello Timothy," Bruce grunted as he set his briefcase down. "Where is Alfred?"

"Alfred?"

"Here sir," the butler called. He got to his feet and took Bruce's coat and hat. "I am afraid that your mother's lamp seems to have meet it's end. Quite accidental I assure you."

Bruce appeared slightly horror stuck. "How?"

Tim stared at his shoes, wondering how this had come to be. He managed to find his voice. "I did it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was running through here and fell… well, it fell too."

Alfred nodded slowly. "An accident I repeat, that Master Tim feels remorseful about."

Bruce nodded as he walked to the lamp and looked miserably at it.

"I'm sorry," Tim repeated.

"Of course, are you about ready to go?"

Bruce seemed to understand that it was an accident for he didn't speak a word of it the whole drive to the airport.

* * *

"Will I have to speak French?" Tim inquired.

"No. We're going to Ottawa- I mean, yes there's French, but just don't worry about it."

"Will I have to speak Canadian?"

"They speak English- Canadian is English!" Bruce sighed irritated with the ENDLESS ignorant questions.

"Yeah.. but weirdly- with unnecessary 'U's all over the place! and they say "Eh" and junk. The dialect- so different. So different." Tim tried to sound dramatic. "I'm so excited!"

"I can tell."

"I've NEVER been on a trip! And these trips are the KICKASS kind!"

"How's that?" Bruce asked.

"You know!" Tim raised an eyebrow, in that hint-hint type way. Bruce frowned, but didn't get a chance to respond. "OH LOOK!" Tim pointed. "CANADA!"

"What?!" Bruce pushed Tim's hand out of his way. "Would you relax?!"

"But it say Air Canada on that plane! Is that our plane? I've never been on a real civilian plane before! BRUCE LETS GET PIZZA!!!!" Tim was talking so fast Bruce couldn't actually understand him.

"What drugs are you on?" Bruce sighed.

"Sorry. I'm excitable…and I REALLY want pizza. _Real bad_. Bad like…Poison Ivy. Will they feed me on the plane?"

"YES. QUITE. NOW." Bruce, as always, said very little, but made his point very clear. Tim shut up.

Tim was fortunate enough to get a window seat on the plane, although since they were flying first class it wouldn't have mattered where he sat. As far as he was concerned, any seat was choice in this place. Tim played with buttons, pulled his table down, then put it back up and read the flight instructions for accidents. He went to push some other buttons around his light to see what they did, but Bruce scolded him, and told him to stop fidgeting. Tim sighed, and stopped playing with things for about two minutes before he began lifting up and putting down his arm rest. Up, down, up, down, half way up, and then Bruce made it go down- for good.

"Your irritating me, sit on your hands."

"Sit on my hands? What am I, an A.D.D kid? Puh-leeeese." Tim rolled his eyes.

"I'm beginning to think you are."

"No." Tim said in a defensive (yet mocking) voice. "It's just this plane is so boring. We've been sitting in this parking lot for planes FOREVER."

"Well do something productive or go to sleep. Just don't annoy me any further."

"Why do you take kids in if you hate them so much?" Tim muttered. 'Or maybe you just hate me.' He thought to himself. Sighing he took out his Discman and his Gameboy Advanced. He'd just spend the next several hours playing death-metal music (his current genre for some reason), while playing violent videogames.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter Two

_**The Business Trip:**_

_Silver the Kid and The BatThing_

**Chapter Two:**

"Tim, wake up, we're landing." Tim opened his yes and squinted out the window. How weird it felt, to wake up in another country.

"Wow…it's not snowy at all."

"That would be because it's June." Bruce smirked.

"Huh. It looks pretty much like… America except with… way more U's." They waited to come to a complete stop before they began getting their things together. They stood and filed off the plane, and a pretty flight attendant bid them farewell. "I want to be a pilot. Then I'd get to hang with _bimba_'s like her ALL the time." Tim smirked. They walked through the tunnel and found themselves in the Ottawa airport. They went to retrieve their luggage- or more like Tim chased his suitcase around and around… and around 12 more times even.

"Timothy! Just take it off the conveyor belt!"

"I will - when I catch it." Tim ignored the people giving him strange looks "GOTCHA! Heh, heh," he was truly victorious.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Bruce sighed.

"Oh learn to have fun." Tim rolled his eyes. "Kick back and relax now and then and you might realize life doesn't suck as much as you think - where we off to now?"

"Chateau Laurier, its downtown, a short walk to the Rideau center, the market place and the Parliament buildings. So while I'm in my meetings you can look around. You'd like Bankstreet."

"Down town… perfect place for some… criminal activity." Tim smiled.

"WHAT! Your NOT here on BATMAN business?" Tim was shocked and… _shocked_!

"I don't know where you got the idea I was, it's not like Canada has any crime that concerns me." Bruce took out his suits (of the everyday board meeting variety) and hung them up in the closet. The room was very nice, and spacious, with a mini-bar! But this didn't make up for the fact that Tim was deceived. "I was wondering why you wanted to come."

"Bruce! When you say "business" you always mean batman related stuff! That's how I got this idea! You tricked me! Now I'm stuck in stupid crime-free Canada for the stupid week."

"It's not crime free… just not crime like we're used to." Bruce defended their current location.

"Like I care - I am livid! I wanna' go home to my X-box!" Tim whined.

"You should give it a chance."

"Well, can _I _just go patrolling at night on my own- if Ottawa is so tame compared to Gotham I should be able to-"

"No! It would be in the news and people could put two and two together."

"You give people way to much credit. Like anyone would think 'hmmm Bruce Wayne went to Canada and that same week Robin was there so therefore… Bruce Wayne is Batman."

"If someone suspected me of being Batman, and was scrutinizing me closely-"

"Like anyone cares about it that much," Tim sighed.

"No Robin. Understand?"

"You're SO unfair to me." Tim huffed and plopped down in a chair. Bruce looked at him, and decided Tim was too rebellious to be trusted, so he took Tim's suitcase and removed the Robin costume from it. "What are you doing?"

"Locking this is my suitcase."

"You're SO massively unfair to me." Tim turned to the window and looked down at the streets. He decided tomorrow he would check out the places Bruce told him about. Why not? He'd start with Bank Street.

"I can't sleep."

"What do you mean you can't sleep? You went to bed only two minutes ago." Bruce flicked on his lamp looking at Tim who stood at the door in his flannel pajama pants and an undershirt. "Go to bed Timothy."

"Easy for you to say, you weren't dragged all the way to someplace that you hate." Tim suddenly took a flying leap and landed on Bruce's bed. "Can I have food?"

"You were crazy about going to Canada just a few hours ago! Listen, Tim, I have to get up early tomorrow, and that means I would enjoy some sleep. So how about you do the same, I am sure you'll have a busy day tomorrow too."

"Yeah right, doing what? Making fun of Canadians?" Tim crossed his legs and took a book laying on the nightstand. "Why are you reading this? What is it about? Looks boring, no pictures, urg! Can I get food?"

"No you cannot get food! Get. Out. Of. My. Room."

Tim leapt towards the door, only to slam into a small metal stand. He slashed his leg against the edge and collapsed to the floor. "Ouch! Bruce, I'm _bleeding_!" He covered his leg and looked at his mentor. "Don't you care?"

Bruce sat for a moment, considering just turning off the lamp and ignoring the boy, but what good would that do? The kid would just whine until he did something.

Moaning and groaning Tim milked the situation for all it was worth.

Bruce got out of his bed and knelt beside the boy. "You are never coming anywhere with me again, not without Alfred." He pried Tim's hands away and looked at the cut. It wasn't bad, but it was bleeding heavily. Stupid kid. Bruce considered his options. Then it came to him. "Get on the bed, I'll be right back."

Tim pouted and limped to the bed.

Bruce found what he was looking for and returned to the room, "ok, we are going to superglue your cut shut."

"Do what! Really? Awesome!"

Shoot, opposite effect than Bruce had been hoping for. But he went through with it, and dabbed the glue on carefully. Alfred had often super-glued bad cuts that needed immediate attention, but never for something this pathetic.

Tim soon sat beaming down at his super-glued cut. "This is cool! Alfred would never let me superglue my cuts! Wow, you aren't so bad Bruce."

"Go to bed," the man pointed to the door. "I mean it; I have to wake up early in the morning."

Tim walked out of the room, looking at his cut with a smile spread across his face. "Cool!"

"Hi, Mister Booshee."

The man looked down at the boy eating a doughnut at his side. An expression of pure shock was apparent. "My name isn't Booshee, its Randolph. What are you up to this early in the morning?"

Tim considered the question from the stranger and shrugged. "Well, usually I wouldn't go around telling people, but since you are from crime-free Canada I guess it won't hurt."

Confusion was across the man's face. "What?"

"My parents dragged me to this god-forsaken country and forced me to get up at this ungodly hour only to drop me off on some street corner!" Tim liked being dramatic. It was fun. Plus he had sipped from Bruce's coffee, even though he had been told not to. "Heeheehee."

"Oh, that's, uh, sad to hear."

"I know!"

"Well, I have to go; my wife is waiting for me at that table over there." The man took a step away. This was the reason he didn't want kids.

"You want to adopt me?"

"Haha, you are, erm, funny. Where are your parents?"

Tim looked around, "can you keep a secret?"

The man was silent.

"My father - well, let's just say he works in a warm climate, likes to torture small animals, and has horns." Tim kept a serious expression through the statement.

"Timothy Drake!"

"Ack!" Tim whirled around as Bruce stormed in his direction.

Bruce looked at the man with an apologetic expression. "Was he bothering you? I'm sorry."

"Not at all, erm, well, I have to go." The man hurried away.

Tim sighed more than needed. "He was nice."

"You drank all my coffee Timothy."

"Huh? Did I?"

Bruce was scowling. "I told you not to touch it!"

"I thought you meant because it was hot, so I waited three minutes and then took a sip."

"Tim, I was only gone for a minute, and in that time you somehow drank all my coffee and scared that poor man away!" Bruce looked serious. "Now you are going to be super hyper all day. I don't believe you."

Tim shrugged and twitched slightly. "I feel, hehehe, fine! Hey, I havethisgreatidea!"

"No, sit down and eat your breakfast, we are leaving in ten minutes, understand?"

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter Three

_**The Business Trip:**_

By: Silver the Kid and The BatThing

**Chapter Three: **

"What would you do if I opened to door while we were driving?"

Bruce looked at Tim for a moment, hand on the wheel, and then turned the child safety on.

"Guess what I learned at school; give me a penny, its cool." Tim held out his hand and Bruce complied, handing the boy a penny. "Ok, I can put it up my nose and it'll come out of my nose."

"Give me the penny this instant."

"But it's really cool."

"No it's not."

"How would you know what is cool? You are, like 40 something! Your generation is way out of sway. You know the loop." Tim frowned as Bruce stopped the car. "I suppose this is goodbye for us."

"For three hours it is." Bruce handed Tim a one hundred dollar bill and shook his head. "This is all you get today, spend it wisely."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Tim, listen, God, or the devil, gave you a brain for a reason. Use it. If you bring any press I swear to god I will ground you till your dying breath. Now get moving."

Tim opened his door and got out. "I love you Bruce."

The man simply glared.

"So I'll call you?"

"Be here in three hours. Don't make me wait." And Bruce pulled the door close and speed off.

Tim waved merrily, and then turned to his future.

_**(Linebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreak)**_

Tim walked down the street, absently wondering where he was and if he would know how to get back. He paused abruptly, and spun around looking for a sign.

"Elgin Street? What the hell? Hm…" He looked around once more now, noting that the big Whitehouse-wannabe (the Parliament buildings that is) were behind him. Bruce dropped him off on Rideau Street so…. That meant nothing to him yet. Later when he needed to get back, he'd just ask someone where that street was. Simple Simon- or whatever.

Continuing on his merry little way he noted that many people were crossing the street against the light or at places where there was no cross walk. He vaguely recalled hearing that Ottawa was the J-walking capital of…the world? Or was it just Canada- no… Ottawa was the capital of Ontar- no Canada? Oh who really cared anyway? He was American- it was expected of him to not know anything about Canada. Canadians were highly amused by this, so why not give them what they want.

"WHERE ARE ALL THE POLAR BEARS!" Tim screamed, pretending to be shocked. Some people stopped at stared at him, but most kept on with their day. Dang, he really hoped people would be more responsive to his outburst. He sulked and passed a man dressed like one of those old school guys from like… the Lord Elgin time period. Heck, maybe he WAS lord Elgin. Maybe that was the deal? Wait… how did he know about Lord Elgin?

"Good evening young gent." The man said in an old fashioned accent, bowing his head at Tim.

"What IS this place? Why are you dressed up?" Tim asked curiously.

"Why this is the finest dining facility in all our nations capital, my dear young lad. We have the best roast beef there is." He smiled, ignoring the dressing up question.

"I thought Canadian beef was bad."

"…No, it's not. It's good!"

"Then why does everyone think it's bad? Didn't Mad Cow Disease like come from here or whatever? Like - I don't think I want your beef, sir. It'll kill me."

"You're an American aren't you?"

"Yes! How could you tell? My good looks?" Tim smiled.

"Go on, be off with ya, young lad's like you have no business being here on such a sunny day as this, plenty of other things to do, eh." The man tried to sound like he wasn't shafting the kid, but he really wanted Tim to go away now. He was making him flustered.

"Ok, EH. I'll be off then, EH. Enjoy your day, EH!" Tim ran down the street thinking himself as a very cool kid for being so rude to some random guy dressed in a tri cornered hat and white wig! "Aw, this would be so much more fun if I brought a friend."

Most stores didn't interest Tim, because they were so much like any other store he would see in America, well except there was tones of French.

"Paul! Regardez le prix de ce chandail! Volonté vous l'achetez pour moi, OH si vous plait?" _/Paul! Look at the price of that sweater! Will you buy it for me, OH please/_ Some girl said to some guy. Tim listened trying to figure out what she was saying… Something about…Paul.

"Bien, si vous le voulez vraiment... le prix est bon sûr." _/Well, if you really want it…the price is good. Sure./_ The guy answered.

"OH Merci! Je t'aime!" /_OH thank you! I love you/ _

She hugged and kissed the guy. Tim shook his head. All he got from that was… Paul and OH. And he must have asked her to like… marry him or something? Yeah, that was probably it. He was SO good at reading body language.

Sure was boring on Elgin street. Yep yep. Tim was so simply bored. He turned to some lady standing at a cross walk.

"Excuse me. Where is Bank Street?" He had recalled Bruce telling him he would like Bank Street.

"Pardon?" The woman asked.

"Bank Street?" He asked. "How do I get there?" She muttered something about Bank Street but he still could tell she didn't know what he was trying to ask. He racked his brain for French, "Erm….Ou…Est…Bank Street?" That sounded good.

"Oh! Oui, Vous misez le bloc trois qui manière." She smiled. Tim stared at her blankly. Dang, now she thought he could speak French. She pointed behind him, and then held up three fingers. "tois blocs."

"OH! Three blocks that way! Thank you! Um… Merci!"

"Votre Beinvenue!" She smiled and then crossed the street. Tim felt very smart now, having the skills to speak French. He just needed to like think about it and listen better and he could do it. Not too different from Italian which he could kind of speak.

"Finally, Bank Street," he smiled looking around. He was standing by a Wallacks art store and looked both ways, "which way to go? I suppose I'll just keep going this way." He still headed away from the parliament buildings. He noticed a Pita Pit and decided to stop in.

"Hello, what can I get ya?" the dude asked.

"Um… A Philly steak Pita!" Tim was craving something meaty and that sounded pretty darn good.

"Kay, that'll be like…$5.90." Tim handed him the $100 bill Bruce had given him- already made into Canadian currency of course. The guy looked at his bill and frowned. "We don't take $100 bills." He pointed to a sign that said: "We do not accept any bills higher then 50/ Nous n'acceptons aucune facture plus haut puis 50"

"The crap! Why not?"

"Not many places do, bud. Only the bank takes 100's. Ha-ha. Got anything smaller?"

"No! This is all I was given!" Tim pouted. "Can't you just cut me some slack? I'm not from this country!"

"We can't type in 100 on our till!" The guy explained. "Sorry, little dude." Tim sulked and left, pita-less. Stupid Canada - stupid Bruce, actually. He probably did it on purpose to sabotage his day! He'd show him. Spiders in his shoes! That's what he'd do! Big huge spiders in his shoes!

Tim continued down the street, passing like the fifth Shwarma place on that street. His attention was caught by some purple building. Tim raised his eyebrow.

"Wilde?" Judging by the rainbows and the things in the window…this was not his kind of store- but maybe Dick would get a kick out of it! Tim pulled out his camera and took a picture, making sure to get the mannequin with the stuffed leopard print Speedo in the shot. He'd mail this to Dick and explain that it reminded him of Dick when he saw it. Dick wasn't gay or anything… but making Dick angry was always fun! "I bet they have a Nightwing costume in there! Mwhaha!"

The next store had lingerie, and Tim was vaguely amused that the two stores were side by side. He bet the gay guys would go to Wilde, get their porno, then go to this store and buy lingerie for like…whatever they do? Tim decided he was surprisingly ignorant of homosexual activity- and would STAY that way for as long as possible.

He continued walking, asking random Canadians to take pictures with him, walked on his hands and chased pigeons (because Canadian pigeons seemed more friendly then Gotham ones). After his fifth pigeon chase he found himself in front of a comic book store.

"Oh my GOD!" the raven haired lad couldn't get into the store fast enough. He ran from bin to bin, and then to the action figure wall, then to the new releases of comic books. "AAAAH! I haven't been able to find this Megaman comic ANYWHERE in Gotham!" He screamed and then did a bit of a dance. "I LOVE Canada! Je suis amore de Canada!"

"Did you just say "I am love of Canada?" Some random chick said from beside him.

"…Yes…" Tim slowly walked away to the cash register. "Hey, bud. TELL me you take $100 bills."

"No…sorry."

"You Jerk! I'll KILL YOU!" Tim stomped his feet. "I NEED this comic! I am THAT much of a geek! I will break you're…" Tim looked for something to break and grabbed a shelf of Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters cards. "Your cards!"

"Sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" Tim threw a card package at the man.

"It's not my fault!" He threw it back.

"It is SO! I hate Canada. They don't take 100's! I mean, do I look like a crook to you?"

"Well, you threatened to kill me, and break store property and you already assaulted me with cards…"

"I'll be back!" Tim threatened, leaving menacingly.

_**(Linebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreak)**_

Tim sat on the corner with his chin in his hands, pouting. The boy's thoughts were bitter, 'Bruce isn't stupid. Bruce knows that people don't take 100-dollar bills!' The boy smashed his hand into the pavement and shot people who passed dirty looks. 'When is Bruce getting back anyhow?'

Stomach rumbling Tim got to his feet. Well, he hadn't lived on the streets and learned nothing; he knew how to get food without paying. But wait… this was Canada. They might do something to American beggars. 'Wouldn't Bruce hate to bail me out? Oh man, I can see it now; the papers would have a day with this one: Billionaire's Boy Arrested for Begging!' Tim nodded, as he was proud of his alliteration in the title.

Well, it was Bruce's fault if Tim was arrested for begging. The boy rubbed his chin and then snapped his fingers, "It's perfect!" The boy began to run down the street, plan in action… almost.

_To be continued…_


End file.
